


Broken Chances: The Rest of the Story

by amethyst_flame



Series: Broken Chances [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 22:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4978534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amethyst_flame/pseuds/amethyst_flame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two weeks after the Triskelion fell, Bucky Barnes found himself standing outside of a small home in Eddisburg, PA. He was looking for a few hours with a friendly face, someone who might let him in long enough to chase away the chill from the cold night air. What he found was a new beginning, and a warm hand to hold as he made his way back home to Steve.</p><p>This is a collection of one-shots, backstories, and deleted scenes from Broken Chances, the first fic in this series. Please start there, or else you're going to be terribly lost trying to work through these. </p><p>*Chapter One: How Steve Met Amelia, Part II.*<br/>*Chapter Two: Memorial Day, 2012*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How Steve Met Amelia: Part II

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! And welcome! 
> 
> A few months back, I started work on Broken Chances, a massive Bucky Barnes/OC fic. I wrote 60,000+ words before I started posting anything, and a lot of that was backstory, as I started to put together my characters. There have also been several scenes cut because they just didn't _quite_ fit where I needed them, or scenes that I skipped over, whether intentionally or not. This work is a collection of all of the "other" moments in Broken Chance. I also have a few chapters written that sort of explain how the Avengers fit into Iron Man 3 and Captain America 2, at least in this version of events. 
> 
> I will gladly take requests, if there was a scene mentioned in Broken Chances that I never got the chance to expand upon, and you'd like to see it, or if there's something else you'd like to see. Just leave a comment and let me know! 
> 
> ***
> 
> In Chapter 5 of Broken Chances, we learned about how Steve met Amelia. This picks up that scene immediately after Loki and Thor return to Asgard. 
> 
> Marvel owns everything except Amelia. Unbeta'd, so the mistakes are all mine, too.

They sent Loki back to Asgard, Thor escorting his brother back to their home world. The remaining Avengers scattered, returning to their own lives. 

Steve gave a little wave as he pulled out, pointing his bike back towards his empty apartment. It wasn’t a long drive, but the thought of going back to the dimly lit cluster of rooms, stuck alone with little more than the memories of people long-since passed, settled like lead in his stomach. 

He missed his team. He missed Peggy. He missed Bucky. He missed his own time, and his own people. He really missed living in a world where aliens only existed between the pages of Bucky’s dimestore science fiction novels. 

He set his bag on the table as he walked in, glancing at his cupboards (empty). The fridge might have some milk, but it expired two days ago. What he needed to do is go brave the local grocery store. Instead, he grabbed the pizza menu from the fridge, ordered a large with extra toppings, and then set up in the overstuffed chair with a thick book and a glass of water. When the doorbell rang forty-five minutes later, he was almost grateful for the thirty seconds of interaction as he handed over a few bills and told the teenager to keep the change. 

The apartment is still too quiet, so after he eats, he pulls the speaker and phone out of his bag, setting them on the table. Turning the phone on was easy, and within a half dozen minutes, there was soft music coming from the speakers. The songs were familiar, and he kept the music playing as he went back to his book.

The sky was nearly dark when his cell phone made a little dinging noise, lighting up beside him on the table. He lifted it, glancing at the screen. 

**Amelia:** Did you get the bluetooth hooked up?

He swiped across the screen, and opened up his messages. It took a few tries to get the keyboard figured out; his fingers were almost too large to accurately hit the letters. After a moment, he sent his reply. 

**Steve:** It took a few tries, but it’s working now. How was the drive home?

 **Amelia:** Peaceful. It’s always nice to get back out of the city. I don’t miss the crowds. 

**Steve:** Fury has a press thing scehdled for tomorrow. Fewer crowds would be a relief. 

**Steve:** Scheduled. The keyboard is too small.

 **Amelia:** You’ll get used to it. The keyboard, I mean. But probably the crowds, too. And the novelty will wear off eventually. The press will find someone else to obsess over. 

**Steve:** We leveled downtown Manhattan. It might take a while. 

**Amelia:** That’s probably true. Give it a week, though. They’ll be something even more newsworthy. 

**Steve:** In my time, this would have been on the front page for weeks. 

His fingers stuttered over the keyboard on the screen. For as long as it took him to respond, especially compared to Amelia’s quick response time, sending text messages weren’t a particularly efficient means of communication. More than that, he didn’t understand the appeal of talking without being able to hear the other person’s voice. He hesitated, and then sent another message.

 **Steve:** Can I call you? 

**Amelia:** Of course. 

It took a moment to work out how to make the call, but Amelia picked up at the first ring. 

“Hi. Sorry.” 

“It’s fine. It took me a while, too. I don’t know how much anyone has explained about any of this, but cell phones, especially smartphones, are very recent technology. I didn’t get my first cell phone until my third year of college, and texting wasn’t that popular until a few years after that. We used to have three letters, plus the number, on each key. You had to cycle through to the right one. Trying to write more than a few words was a nightmare. I hated it.”

He heard the smile in her voice. “You know, there were supposed to be flying cars by now.” 

She laughed. “I thought the same thing! I mean, the future must be a heck of a let down for you.” 

“It’s not all bad. But Howard had a flying car, well, almost, in 1943.”

“Logistics would be nearly impossible, though. I mean, can you imagine Manhattan with flying cars added to the mess? A minor accident at thirty stories up could kill dozens by the time the wreckage hit the ground. Personally, I’m still holding out for a hoverboard.” 

“A hoverboard.” 

“Flying surf board? Kind of. Tony could make one now without too much problem, but I haven’t talked him into it yet. I keep dropping hints every Christmas, though.” 

“That’d be really useful in the field.” 

Amelia sighed. “And that is why he won’t make them. It’d start off as a toy for techno geeks, and quickly get militarized.” 

“You’ve obviously never walked four days across the German countryside while trying to keep your injured teammate on his feet.”

“No. But the Iron Man suit didn’t start out as a weapon, either. Originally, it was just a way out. Tony weaponized it to combat the 10 Rings, but the suit was never meant for military purposes, and look where that went. Some nutjob with an axe to grind took out most of the Stark Expo, and killed a whole lot of people. You missed all of the excitement over that one.” 

“Were you there for it?” 

“Part of it. That was about the same time we met.”

“How did that happen? I mean, you seem a little too down to earth for someone like him.” 

“Same place, same time. Just one of those things.” 

An understatement, he was sure, but if she didn’t want to elaborate, he wasn’t going to push. “Well, lucky for me that you did meet him.” He sighed. Not exactly what he meant to say there. “No, sorry. That was forward. I just mean, if you hadn’t met him, I wouldn’t have met you, and I’m really glad that I did. Not, you know, romantically. I--” 

She laughed. “Steve, it’s okay. I knew what you meant. I’m glad I met you, too. Kind of wishing I’d paid more attention during history class, though. I’ll have to swing down to the bookstore, and see what I can find to get caught up on everything again.” 

“Don’t do that.” The words slipped out before he could think them through. 

“Umm. Alright.” 

“No, I just-- Can I show you? I’ll tell you about my time, and you can help me with yours?” 

“A cultural exchange.” 

He nodded. “Yeah. Can we do that?” 

“I think it’s a great idea. Yeah, let’s do it.” 

There was a pause in the conversation, and he struggled to think of something to say. Fortunately, Amelia didn’t seem to have that problem. 

“So, what are you doing on the phone with me, anyhow? Shouldn’t you be out celebrating your big victory? Am I keeping you from your plans?” 

Steve glances at the half-eaten pizza sitting on the stove, the blank television screen, and the pile of books sitting on a bookshelf. Some celebration. “My plans involved pizza and a book. You’re not interrupting anything.” 

“I don’t know whether or not that’s a good thing. You can’t meet new people from inside your apartment, Steve. Okay, well, not quite true. There’s always online dating, but I’d maybe give it a few months before you try tackling that one.” 

“Online dating?” 

“Never mind. So, what happens next? Now that the world has been saved, and the bad guys taken out of the equation, what are your plans?” 

“Director Fury wants me to join SHIELD.” 

“Going from superhero to secret agent?”

He chuckled. “Maybe.” 

“Is that what you want?” 

Steve paused. And that was the thing, wasn’t it? He wasn’t sure that SHIELD was the right choice, not with the secrecy and the weapons they were designing. But what were his options? The military? Some other covert organization? It’s not like he was designed for much of anything else, and he didn’t know what else to do with his time. Fury thought that stability might do him good. And it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. “Maybe I can do some good there.”

“Just make sure that you’re there because you want to be, not because you think you have to be.”

“I know. This feels right. I’ll be okay.” 

“Okay is a good place to start, but don’t settle there. You deserve better.” The conviction in her voice leaves no room for argument, and he wants to believe her. 

“It’s… It’s something to work for, at least.” 

“You’ll get there. Listen, my dinner is about ready, so I should get going. It was good to hear from you. Call or text anytime, okay?” 

“I will. Thank you, Amy. Enjoy your meal. Good night.” 

“‘Night, Steve.” 

He disconnected the call, and turned the music back on before setting the phone back onto the table. Book in hand, he sprawled out on the couch (longer and softer than the one he grew up with, but not nearly as soft as his bed) to read until sleep claimed him.

***

The debriefing files sat on the side table, each and every paper neatly stacked back in the proper order. His uniform was sitting a few feet away. The cupboards weren’t empty anymore, and he even had a cookbook that he picked up in a used bookstore downtown. He hadn’t used it yet, but he bought it, and figured that had to count for something, even if his most ambitious meal so far had been mac and cheese. 

The days were dragging past. Two weeks since the Chautari invasion, and there hadn’t been a new mission in that time. There had been no contact from SHIELD at all. Stark had called twice, and both times, Steve had let the machine answer it. He felt guilty, but he just didn’t have it in him to pick up. A few big boxes showed up a week ago, the Stark logo on the side, along with a few technicians to get things set up. New laptop and tablet, a larger television, a few other things. And it wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the gesture, but it was all a bit beyond him. The tablet he could figure out; it wasn’t that different from the phone, really, but taking the time to work out the rest of it was more than he had interest in right at the moment. A few of the movies weren’t bad, though. 

Steve felt for his phone in his pocket. He shouldn’t. It was late, and she was probably sleeping. But it had been four days since he last talked to anyone. His memories were chasing at his heels, and he hadn’t slept in two days. Didn’t dare close his eyes. So he sat at his dining room table, feeling the world spin around without him, with no anchor to connect him to the city outside his windows. 

He held the phone in his hand, staring at the dark screen. She was as close as the other side of that screen. Literally. His background was picture she took the night they met. He slid the screen open, and glanced down. His own face stared back at him, unsure, but he was smiling in the picture, just the same. Taking a breath, he opens the texting app and types in a quick message. 

**Steve:** Are you awake?

 **Steve:** No, ignore that. It’s late. Sorry. 

They’d texted back and forth a bit nearly every day. He occasionally took pictures of something he found interesting while out exploring the city, and sent them to her. She always responded back, asked about his day, told her a bit about his. And she’d called a few times, too. Those calls, he always took. 

His phone buzzed with a response, and he opened up the screen.

 **Amelia:** I’m up. Is everything alright? 

**Steve:** Everything is fine. Sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb you. Goodnight.

He set the phone down, just in time for it to ring. He picked it back up. “Rogers.” 

“Hey, it’s Amy. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry. I-” 

She cut him off. “Steve.. I told you to call. That’s why you have my number. Now, what’s going on? Are you okay?” 

Steve glanced around the room, desperately seeking an excuse to call. His eyes lit on the stack of DVDs. “Have you ever seen The Human Centipede?” 

“Uhm. How do you know about that movie?” 

“Tony sent me a box of stuff to help me get caught up, as he put it.” 

“And he included that movie?”

“Yeah.” 

“Right. Pick it up and throw it in the garbage. Maybe even use gloves. _Don’t ever_ watch it.”

“Gloves?”

“Trust me.” 

“What’s it about?” 

“Uh…” He could hear the discomfort in her voice. “It’s about human experimentation. Really perverse stuff. Tony put it in there to mess with you.”

Steve glanced at the back cover, blanched, and tossed it into the garbage. “Done. Thanks.”

“What else did he send you?”

“Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Austin Powers, James Bond, and the Rocky Horror Picture Show.” 

“Okay. Those are safe enough. At least, you won’t need therapy after.”

“I started watching James Bond. There are a few of his movies here.”

“I’m a little impressed that you have a DVD player.” 

“Tony sent one, along with a television.” 

Amelia laughed. “That doesn’t surprise me. How are things going? Settling in at all?” 

“I went out to a carnival in town last night. I haven’t been since before the war. They haven’t changed much.” 

“I’d imagine not. Did you have a good time?” 

“Well, I don’t get sick on the ferris wheel anymore. So, there’s that.” 

“No small accomplishment,” she teased. 

“The games are easier to win, too.”

He hears her laughter over the phone, and it coaxes a small smile onto his face. “Please tell me that your living room is now littered with oversized stuffed animals and a couple of goldfish.” 

He chuckles. “I gave them to a few little kids. No goldfish, though.” 

“It sounds like you had a good time.” 

“Yeah.” He didn’t mention how lonely it was, even surrounded by the crowds. No one recognized him, but he did catch the attention of several young women, and wished, not for the first time, that Bucky had been there, too. 

“What about you?” he asked after a moment. 

“No, no goldfish here, either. I kill houseplants with diabolical precision. Pets would probably be a bad idea.” 

He heard the teasing in her voice, and laughed. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“There’s not a lot going on. Work, mostly.”

“Sorry, I don’t think I ever asked about what it is you do.”

“I’m a market analyst. I work for a firm here in town, but Tony is my main client. I’m working with him on his green energy project.”

“What does a market analyst do?” 

“In this case, Tony has a product, right? His innovations in green energy. My job is to take that product and figure out who needs it, and how we can get it to them. We’re currently approaching major cities and universities, with a goal of eventually putting the technology into use around the country. And Tony is working on a smaller version that could be used in underdeveloped regions, so I’m in contact with a few overseas organizations, too.”

“That’s impressive. And a little intimidating.” 

“It’s not that different than what you used to do, really. Selling a product. Except I do more research and a lot less singing and dancing.” 

He sighed. “You’ve seen the videos.” 

“Sorry, yeah. Tony forwarded them to me. Umm… I was thinking, though. I know there are a few old pictures and videos from back then, ones of you and the rest of your team. I know someone who can add the color back in. I can give them a call, if you’re interested.” 

“They can do that?” His voice cracks.

“Yeah.”

“I’m happy to pay..”

“Nah, they owe me a favor. It’s taken care of.” 

“Thank you.” 

“It’s really not a problem.” She hesitated. “How bad is it?”

Steve swallowed back panic. “I don’t understand.”

“You texted me at 1:30 in the morning on a Monday, and while I’m really glad to hear from you, I don’t think it was to tell me about the fair. Are you sure that you’re okay? Do you want some company? I can leave now, and be there in two hours, probably less.” 

“No, it’s nothing-- nothing that important.”

“Steve…” 

“Really. I’m okay. Just talking helps.”

“What are you doing Wednesday afternoon?” 

He huffed a small laugh. “Nothing on my social calendar. Why?” 

“I have a half day at work. Want to meet up for a late lunch? Maybe around 2:00, or is that too late?” 

“I’ll come to you. Where do you want to meet?” 

“Small green brick building on main street. And if you’re coming here, make it noon.”

“I’ll be there.” 

“Good. I’m looking forward to it.”

Steve smiled a bit, a bit of the tightness in his chest starting to loosen. “Me, too.”

***

Steve pulled his bike into the parking lot beside the green brick building. Marshall and Associates, declared a wooden sign out front. The whole thing was an eyesore. He parked his bike, and went up to the front door, pushing his hair back into place before opening the glass door. A young woman, hardly more than a girl, sat at a desk just inside the door. She started blushing as soon as she saw him, and he bit back a sigh. 

“Hi, I’m here to see Amelia Cassidy. Is she still here?” 

“Of course.” The girl smiled, and then picked up the phone. After a moment, she spoke. “Amy, you have a visitor.” 

She set down the phone again a moment later. “She’ll be right out. Go ahead and take a seat, if you’d like.” 

“I’m alright. Thanks.” 

He moved over to lean against the wall, watching as the sunlight from the window hit the carpeted floor. A minute passed, and then he heard a door opening to his right. He glanced up at Amelia. She held his gaze, and smiled. 

“Ready to go?” she asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“Great.” She turned back to the woman at the desk. “I’ll see you in the morning, Maggie.” 

“Have a good afternoon!” the woman called after them, and Steve could hear the suggestion in her voice. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Amelia just laughed. “Sorry. She gets easily excited.” 

“It’s alright. I’m getting used to it. Where did you want to go?” 

“There’s a great diner just a few blocks away, if that’s alright, or there’s a steak place a block past that. Your pick.” 

They ended up at the diner, sat towards the back. Steve took the seat with the best view of the main entrance and the swinging kitchen doors. Amelia slipped into the booth across from him. The waitress came over to drop off menus and take their drink orders. Steve browsed the menu with a bemused smirk. 

“Diner food. Reliably, the one thing that hasn’t changed in seventy years. You have no idea how comforting that is. All of this time, and a burger is still a burger.” 

“You missed the gelatin craze of the fifties and sixties. Everything either wiggled or was in a casserole. Twenty years of it. My mom used to have an old cookbook filled with recipes.” 

Steve made a face, then shrugged. “We boiled everything.” 

“That might be worse. Not by much, though.” She laughed. “Actually, my mom used to collect, uh...retro..cookbooks, and I remember looking through one from the forties once. There was a recipe that called for a slice of ham and peanut butter, and then it went downhill from there.” 

Steve shook his head. “No one ate that. No one I knew, anyhow.” 

“That’s surprisingly reassuring.”

The waitress came back to take their orders, and he waited until after she left to pick back up the conversation. 

“Do you cook?”

“Obsessively.” 

A small smile tugs at his lips. “Obsessively?” 

“I spend a lot of time in the kitchen. Bad night? Make cookies. Stressed? Tired? Bored? Uncomfortable emotional drama? I cook. Great day? I cook to celebrate.” 

He looks at her, somewhat disbelieving. She’s not short, not exactly, but she is thin. Toned and athletic, but still, there’s not much to her. “Where do you put it all?” 

She laughs. “I share, and I do yoga. What about you?” 

“I haven’t really given much thought to cooking yet. Mostly just do take out.” 

“Take out. God. Alright, it’s settled then. I’m hosting the first cultural exchange night. We can either eat something from your time, or something else, but I’m cooking.”

He laughed. “I’m not going to tell you no. Are you sure, though? I mean, I don’t want to be an imposition.” 

“Steve… We agreed to these cultural exchange nights. So, I’m going to make dinner, and you’re going to plan out the rest of it. Two weekends from now, when I’m in the city for the symposium.” 

“Alright. I’ll see what I can put together.” 

“Make sure you at least have a basic kitchen setup. I can’t cook on paper plates,” she joked.

“Hey! I made macaroni and cheese last week.” 

She smirked, and patted his arm. “If you want to pick out dinner, get me the recipe ahead of time, and I’ll pick up the supplies on my way over.” 

“I can get the groceries,” Steve offered. “It’ll do me good to get out of the house a bit.” 

“Alright. Can’t argue with that. I’ll double check to see which evenings I have free, or maybe I’ll just come down a day early. I’m staying at the Tower anyhow, so that won’t be a problem.” 

“Let me know the day and time, and I’ll be ready. And, Amy, thank you.” 

He expects her to ask ‘for what?’, but she doesn’t. What she does do is set her hand over his, giving it a light squeeze.

“Anytime. Remember that, okay? Call. Text. Drive up, even, or ask me to come down, and I’ll be there.” 

He nods, and sets his own hand over hers, holding tightly, and nods his understanding. Can’t get words out around the tightness in his chest. 

The moment was interrupted by the arrival of their meals, both cheeseburgers and fries. Steve reluctantly let go of her hand. But, he felt better. Lighter, even. And knowing that he had a bit less than two weeks to put together their first cultural exchange night gave him something to do. He could focus on the best parts of his time, the things he wanted to share, instead of the loss and tragedy. His head was already swimming with possibilities. 

This was...good. He felt like he had something, someone, again. A tentative friendship. Someone, at least, who cared if he had a good day or a bad. A way to break up the monotony of his days. 

Of course, that didn’t last long. Director Fury called him the next day with a schedule of appointments with counselors and other specialists, all at the midtown SHIELD facility. There was a promise of more missions, as soon as he was cleared for active duty again. A new training program to better prepare him for his new role. Purpose. A way to be useful again. 

And, through it all, there was Amelia, there with an encouraging word, a funny text, or a cat video, when he had a rough day. An open ear and a warm laugh when he needed it. A friend. 

In a time when he knew only a few people, and trusted none of them, a friend was an unexpected boon. One he wasn’t sure he’d done anything to deserve, but one that he’d fight to keep, just the same.


	2. Memorial Day: 2012

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gives a speech at the WWII monument in Washington DC on Memorial Day, 2012.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is about two weeks late, but I didn't want to let Memorial Day slip by without a quick glimpse into Steve's first Memorial Day in modern times. It's kind of bittersweet, and a little long, but I didn't want him to just spend the day in a dark apartment, staring at the walls and missing the past. 
> 
> So, here you go.

_May 26, 2012_

Steve stares down at the papers scattered across his table. Itinerary. Suggested talking points. Map of the memorials in DC, and information on the WWII monument in particular. 

He had two nights to prepare a speech, something to remember the men he’d fought with, and honor the ones still alive, several of whom would be in attendance. Sitting on the front row, waiting to hear from Captain America. 

Except, to him, the war wasn’t 70 years ago. It was two months ago. And the losses were still fresh, wounds still raw and bleeding. He still woke most nights screaming, hand reaching in the dark, stretching out and finding nothing. And he still opened his eyes to find a world where he was alone. What was he supposed to tell them? That he didn’t want to be there? That all he wanted was a quiet day of reflection, a chance to mourn all he’d lost away from the cameras and the need to be America’s hero?

No. Those men had risked their lives, and lost friends and brothers, in service to their country. They deserved the best of him, even if he didn’t have anything left to give.

His cell phone sits beside him on the table, and he picks it up, staring at his contact list for a few moments before giving up and calling Amy. 

After the second ring, her voice comes on the line. 

“Amy, hi. Umm.. Are you busy?” 

“Seven o’clock on a Saturday evening? I’m watching Netflix and eating pizza. This is me you’re talking to. What’s up?” 

“President Ellis asked me to give a speech at the WWII Memorial on Monday.”

“Wow. Congratulations. That sounds--” 

“Terrifying. It sounds terrifying. I don’t know what to tell them. I’m still-- It still hurts. It still keeps me up at night.” She knows better than most; there have been a half dozen nights where he’s called her, broken up and desperately alone.

“Are you going to do it?” 

He sighs. “I don’t know. It’s not-- I know they deserve it. More than deserve it. These men…” Steve trails off, gathering his thoughts. “Everyone thinks that the Commandos worked alone, but we didn’t. We had special missions, but we spent a lot of our time fighting right next to the other troops. Everyone looked to us as heroes, even then, and--” He breaks off with a half laugh-half sob. “We had better weapons. Better training. Better support and supplies. Those men out there in the trenches, they were the real heroes. And too often, that bravery cost them their lives. So what do I say in front of these men and their families? They want me to say something inspiring. And all I can think to tell them was that I was a fraud.” 

“You’re not a fraud. And, you tell them what you told me. You tell them about the bravery of their friends. You tell them that you’re still hurting, because I bet they are, too. These men don’t need you to go up there as Captain America. They want to hear from Steve Rogers. Give them that.” 

“That simple, huh?” 

“It can be.” 

Steve stares at the notebook, where he’d already started brainstorming ideas, and scribbles down ‘be yourself!’. It somehow sounded more persuasive when she said it, he thought with a frown. “I don’t suppose you’d mind reading over everything once I get it written?” 

“Of course not! Just email it to me as soon as you’re ready.” 

He rubs the back of his neck. “Actually, I was hoping that maybe you could come down for the weekend? I know it’s late notice, but I’d get you a hotel room for a couple nights. I mean, if you can’t, if you already have plans, that’s fine too, I just--” He takes a breath. “I could use a friend here for this.” 

There’s barely a moment’s pause. “I can be there before lunch tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m glad you asked. What should I bring? Is there a dress code?” 

“Just....something nice? I’m wearing my old uniform. Not the one with tights,” he clarifies after a pause. “My actual uniform.” The one he never actually wore unless it was for a meeting. 

“Yeah? Alright. I’ll come up with something. I’ll let you go so I can go pack. And Steve?” 

“Yeah?”

“You’re going to do fine.” 

He smiles a bit, some of the anxiety easing. “Thanks, Amy. I’ll see you in the morning. Get some rest.” 

“You, too.” 

He hangs up the phone, rips the page of scribbles out of his notebook, and tosses it into the waste basket across the room. 

And then, he grabs his pen, opens to a clean page, and starts writing. 

***

Amelia parks in front of Steve’s apartment just after 11:00 the following morning. Steve already has the door open when she gets up there, standing there with dark smudges under his eyes and his blond hair sticking up every which way. 

“Hey, Amy.” 

“Steve,” she moves in, giving him a hug before stepping back to look up at him. “Have you slept?” 

“I was-- I was trying to get the speech right.” He starts rubbing at the back of his neck again.

“Do you have a draft?” 

“It’s on the table.” 

She nods. “Alright. Go take a shower, I’ll order in lunch, and we’ll take a look.” 

He gives her a sleepy smile. “You’re the best.” 

Amelia laughs. “And you’re exhausted. Go on. Is pizza okay?” 

“Pizza’s great.” 

He disappears off towards his bedroom, and Amelia pulls out a menu from Steve’s collection in one of the kitchen drawers. Ten minutes later, the pizza is ordered and Steve is back from his shower, looking a little more awake than when he went in. “Ready?” He asks, gesturing towards the table. 

Amelia sits down across the table from him, and he slides the notebook over towards her. The writing is a mess, with large chunks scribbled out and writing in the margins. But she takes it and starts to read. 

When she looks up again, her eyes are wet. 

“Steve…” 

“It needs work,” he mumbles. 

“It’s perfect. Don’t change a word.”

He looks up. “If you’re just saying that…” 

“I’m not. I swear. If this sucked, I would tell you.” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

She grins. “What are friends for? Seriously, Steve. This is good. You should be proud of it.” 

He’s about to respond when the doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of their lunch. Amelia pays the teen standing at the door, and they settle at the table to eat. 

“So, how’s life outside of the speech? Work going well?” 

Steve shrugs. “Well as it ever goes. I get that we’re helping people, I guess, but it’s a far cry from what I signed up for.” 

“You signed up for a world war. Not gonna lie, Steve. I’m kinda glad that your duties have changed a bit.” 

He chuckles. “Fair point. I just… The trip to Paris last week? We were cleaning up after a mission that went wrong the week before, one that apparently involved sneaking files from the French Parliament.” 

“Quit. You realize that you don’t have to stay with SHIELD, right? They don’t own you.” 

“I think they own my uniform, though,” he jokes. “Peggy helped to form SHIELD, and she was one of the leaders for decades. I guess, maybe if I stay, I can protect her legacy. This organization was her life. I don’t know if I can walk away from that.” 

Amelia reaches across the table, setting a hand on his arm and squeezing lightly. “You’re a good man, Steve.” 

A wistful look crosses his face. “I try to be.” 

“Just don’t let your commitment to her legacy pollute your own. If you’re not happy, or if something feels off, you’re probably right to trust your instinct.” She pulls back. “And this just got way too serious for a pizza lunch. Sorry.” 

“No, you’re right. Thank you.” He glances at the clock. “I reserved your room at the Marriot. While you settle, I’m probably going to get a quick nap. Did you have plans for tonight?” 

“I’m all yours.” 

“I thought, well… It’s a bit of a drive, but have you been to the aquarium?” 

“Which one?” 

“Baltimore?” 

“Not for years,” she answers with a grin. “Are we going?” 

“I was hoping you might be interested in checking it out with me.” 

“On one condition.” 

“Anything.” 

“Can we take the bike?” 

***The Next Morning*** 

Steve knocks on the door to Amelia’s hotel room. Seconds later, the door swings open, and she’s standing there, looking up at him. 

“Wow. Look at you,” she says with a smile, hands coming up to lightly brush against the material of his uniform. He glances down self-consciously, and tugs at the bottom of the jacket. She captures his hands in hers, and pulls them away. “Stop. You look great, Steve.”

He blushes, but pride flashes in his eyes. “Been awhile since I wore it,” he mumbles. When Amy laughs, he cracks a smile. “You know what I mean.” 

She’s wearing a long red skirt with a fitted white lace top, modest and feminine. A sapphire and diamond pendant rests just above her breasts, and matches her bracelet. “If I knew you were trying to match, I would have worn my other uniform,” he jokes lightly. 

Amy shrugs. “Seemed appropriate. Are you ready to go?”

She’s still holding his hands, smaller fingers wrapped around his. Steve tightens his grip, drawing on her support, and then takes a breath and nods. “I think so.”

“Alright then, Cap,” she teases with a smirk, slipping her arm through his “let’s go shake hands and kiss babies, or whatever heroes do on their off days.” 

***

Steve’s driver for the day waits outside while he went in to pick up Amy, and then drives them across town to the memorial service. Steve spends the drive looking over his index cards, Amy sitting close at his side. When the vehicle stops, she reaches over, taking his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“You’ve got this, and I’ll be right there if you need me.” 

He gives her a wobbly smile, and gets out, coming around to open her door before turning to cast his gaze out over the park. The ceremony didn’t start for another hour, and there was already a crowd forming.

They’re escorted to a private tent to one side of the memorial, where President Ellis and a few top-level politicians are waiting to greet them. 

“Captain Rogers,” Ellis greets, holding out his hand. 

“President Ellis. It’s good to see you again, sir. Allow me to introduce my friend--” 

“Miss Cassidy. How good to see you again. How’s Tony? I haven’t seen him lately.” 

Steve lifts his eyebrows, and Amelia laughs. “The President and I met a year ago at an event fundraiser Pepper put together,” she explains. “Tony’s doing well. Busy as ever.” 

“Hopefully nothing I need to worry about?” 

“Well, it’s Tony, so I can’t make promises.” 

The President laughs. “So, Captain, you’re the main event today. We have a couple people going on before you, so we have you scheduled for the second half hour. You’ll have full security detail, of course. We were hoping you’d be willing to meet with some of the veterans at least when you finish.” 

“Of course, Sir.” 

“Excellent. We do appreciate it. Now, there are bottled waters and snacks over on the left side there. Feel free to help yourselves.” 

***

Steve is chatting with a Senator when one of the assistants walks up to him.

“Captain Rogers? We’re ready for you.” 

Steve takes a breath and turns to Amy. “Well.” 

“You’ve got this,” she encourages. “And I’ll be cheering you on from the side.” 

Steve pulls his pile of index cards out as he reaches the podium, glancing over the first card before looking up at the crowd waiting for him. His stomach clenches uncomfortably and he tries to ignore the way his hands are sweating. 

There are four dozen old men, with wrinkled skin and pristine uniforms, sitting closest to the stage. He sees a few women, WAC uniforms neatly pressed, in there, too. Beyond that are their families, and then the public beyond that. President Ellis stands to one side of the stage, his security detail surrounding him and a few other notable politicians. And to the side of them, standing by herself, is Amy. She catches his gaze and gives him a thumbs up. He nods, and then turns back to face the veterans. 

“When--” He pauses to clear his throat. “When President Ellis invited me here for this, I wanted to turn him down. What could I stand here and say to you that would mean anything in the face of everything and everyone we lost during the war? Words-- Words don’t do justice to the sacrifices made.” Steve stops to take a breath, and then glances back to Amelia before facing front again. 

“I also wanted to spend the day alone. I guess you all know that I only woke up a couple months ago. When the plane went down, we were still fighting. I wake up, and everything’s changed. The world moved on. But to me, it felt like it was only the span of a few minutes. I wanted to spend the day remembering what I’d lost.” Bucky’s face dances across his memories, and he falters, looking down.

“My father died in 1918, during the last few months of the Great War. All I had of him was a couple of pictures, a few pairs of shoes that I never quite grew into, and his army uniform. Growing up, all I’d wanted was to make a difference, to follow in my father’s footsteps, but when the war started, no one in their right mind was going to let me fight. Not like I was. So, they turned me into a super soldier, and they sent me out to sell war bonds.” There are a few chuckles from the audience, so he flashes them a grateful smile and keeps going. “The point is, by the time I got out there to fight, I had already been given the serum. The Howling Commandos and I, we were given the best weapons, the best research, the best support teams. We had every advantage. And we were out there fighting beside guys who had none of that. Guys who had been in the trenches for months, and still greeted us with smiles when we arrived. They were the real heroes out there. They believed in what we were fighting for, and too many of them paid the ultimate price for that belief.” He glances down at his notecards, hands gripping the sheets of paper a little too tightly. 

“And that’s why I’m here. Why we’re all here. To honor the sacrifices made, and to remember the men we fought beside. I’ve been called a hero more times than I’m comfortable with, but those men? They were my heroes.” He shuffles the papers again, and takes a peek back over to Amelia, who gives him an encouraging smile. Taking a breath, he shoves the index cards back into his pocket. “Two nights ago, I was sitting in my apartment, trying to figure out what to say here today. I called a friend, and she told me to come here as Steve Rogers, not as Captain America. So, that’s what I’m doing. I went to five different recruiting stations before I was accepted. I wanted to do my part, but I had no idea what war was. I didn’t know what I was going to see over there, or some of the things I was going to do. But, even if I had known, I still would have lied on every enlistment form and tried to get in, because it was still the right thing to do. I’d like to believe that the men, and women, we’re honoring here today would make the same choice, even knowing that they wouldn’t be coming home.” 

He thinks of Bucky, the easy smiles that became so rare as the war progressed, the way his eyes dulled a little more with each battle. The nightmares, when Steve would sit with him until he could fall back asleep. Steve had offered each time to send him home, let him get back and recover, but Bucky would just call him an idiot and refuse. He wouldn’t leave Steve behind, and that loyalty had cost him his life. 

Eyes watering, he looks around him at the hundreds of faces looking up at him, the monument extending to either side of where he stands, and he wishes more than anything that he was anywhere else, with Bucky at his side again, and this whole nightmare behind him. 

“I’m sorry. I--” his voice breaks, and he stares down at the podium, trying to pull himself back together. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of. A hot tear splashes down onto his hands, and he roughly wipes at his eyes. 

And then a sturdy hand rests on his back. “It’s okay, son. You’re doing just fine.” 

Startled, Steve looks up, and into the weathered face of one of the veterans. The man grips a cane tightly in one hand, his other hand still resting along Steve’s back. 

“Sir--” 

“You don’t need to apologize; not to us. You don’t remember me, Captain, but I was in Azzano when you pulled us all out. I served with Sergeant Barnes before he joined the Commandos. He was a good man, and I was saddened to hear of his passing.” 

Steve’s eyes water again, and he just nods. “Thank you,” he responds in a broken voice. The man just stands there, providing unwavering support as Steve takes a few deep breaths. 

“For those of you who served, in this war or in any others, thank you. And for those of you who are here to remember lost friends and relatives-- I thank you, too. It’s through you that the memories of our brothers live on.” 

He steps back, and the older man embraces him in a quick, surprisingly strong hug, pulling back after a moment or two. “If you’ve got a few moments, Captain, it would be an honor to introduce you to my family, and I know some of the other men would like to meet you, too.” 

“It would be an honor. Sorry, I don’t recall your name.” 

“Sergeant George Wills, Sir.” 

Steve’s eyes widen, remembering a young man--barely 19--with bright red hair and green eyes that always seemed to sparkle with mischief. “I remember you, George. Tell me, did you ever get anywhere with that nurse?” 

George laughs, slapping him on the back. “I married her. Come say hi.”

Steve follows him down to the waiting men and their families, and George leads him up to an older woman in a wheelchair. She struggles to her feet to meet him, a younger man standing at her side. As Steve approaches, she takes a few steps forward, and envelopes him in a tight hug, her arms going around his chest. Steve pushes past the awkwardness to hug her back. 

“Millie, behave yourself!” her husband scolds, even though he has a smile on his face. 

“I’ve been waiting seventy years to do that,” she says, releasing her hold on Steve and stepping back. “Thanks to you, I got to marry the man of my dreams. Five kids, twenty-one grandkids, and more than thirty great-grandkids, and that’s just so far. None of that could have happened without you.” 

Steve blushes. “Uhm, thanks. But really--” 

Millie pats the arm of the man beside her. “This here is my Steven, my oldest grandson. Named for his father, who was named for you.” 

Steve turns his attention to the tall red-haired man who looks so much like his grandfather once. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says, holding out his hand. The younger man--still easily in his thirties--smiles and returns the gesture. 

“Pleasure’s all mine, Captain Rogers. We grew up hearing about you It’s an honor to meet you in person.” 

After that, Steven leads his grandmother back to her chair, and some of the other men come forward. After several moments, he looks up, spotting Amy standing by the stage, and waves her over. She comes to stand beside him, giving the men a shy smile as they turn to face her. 

“Everyone, this is Amy. She drove down to keep me company today. Amy, a few of the men are getting together this afternoon, and they invited me to join them.”

“Oh, yeah! No, go have fun.” 

“Captain, you didn’t mention that you had a beautiful young woman keeping you company today,” one of the men said, turning to her. Despite his age, she could still see a lot of the young charmer he must have once been. “Amy, you come with him. It’s been many years since most of us old soldiers have had the company of spending time with a pretty dame.” The man gives her a wink and a roguish grin. 

She blushes in spite of herself, and the man gives a delighted laugh. “We might have to leave you behind, Captain.” 

Steve frowns slightly. “Do you want to go? If you’d rather, we can go do something else.” 

“Do you mind if I tag along? I don’t want to intrude.” 

“No! No, you wouldn’t be intruding.” 

Amelia smiles. “I’d love to, then.” 

***

Steve takes her out for a quiet lunch, and they spend the afternoon back at his apartment. Amelia leans against him on the couch, both lost in a book, sharing passages that catch their interest. 

Amelia is different from girls in his own time. She touches more. Reaches out to say she cares. To comfort. To forge a bond. This casual contact, her leaning against him as they read, is unfamiliar, compared to what he used to know, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Truth be told, there’s no one else in his life right now that can look past Captain America to see the real person beneath the mask. Touch is brought about by training or by fighting during missions, and in both cases, it leaves bruises. Touching for the sake of being touched is something that he hadn’t experienced since Bucky, with his casual way of tossing his arm over Steve’s shoulders (even once Steve was taller than him by an inch or two) or otherwise reaching out. 

So when Amelia reaches for his hand, or rests her head against him, or sticks her arm through his, he soaks it up. And, slowly, he’s learning how to reach back. Little things. 

Like the way his arm drapes around her as she reads, her hand resting lightly on his wrist.

He spends half of the afternoon just staring blankly at the pages of the book, lost in memories. But the overwhelming feelings of loss and sinking loneliness don’t pull him down as deeply with her at his side. 

The get-together, a cookout at one of the men’s houses, is scheduled for 4:00, so by 3:00, they’re getting ready to leave. They stop along the way to pick up a couple dozen cupcakes from a well-known bakery, and arrive right on time. The host’s daughter, a lively-looking woman who was at least 60 if she was a day, whisked Amy and the cupcakes off into the house, intent on introducing her around while the Captain went around back and caught up with the rest of the old men. Amy laughed, and Steve stifled a smile while trying to glare at his friend. 

That’s how Steve finds himself sitting in a circle that’s half made up of wheel chairs, and almost entirely made up of old men, set just a bit apart from the rest of the crowd, as they share stories from their glory days during a war that ended sixty-seven years ago. There’s laughter, and there are tears. But there’s also support, and shared memories. 

For the first time since he woke up, Steve finds a comradery that he hadn’t experienced since the plane crash. And it’s not the same, not exactly, but it’s closer than he thought he’d find. And suddenly, he’s really glad that he decided not to stay home and skip the ceremony. 

Amelia comes out after a while, along with many of the other wives or daughters who were in the house, and the man, Ralph, who had invited her waves her over, tugging over a chair for her, despite her protests. He situates her between himself and Steve, and then proceeds to flirt shamelessly. 

Amelia, to her credit, deflects like a pro and takes it all in good humor, while charming the group. And when one of the men tells Ralph to give her a break, because she’s obviously the Captain’s gal, she just laughs it off and sets them straight. 

And it’s not that he hasn’t considered it. Things are so easy between them, so natural, but he’s still grieving Peggy. He’s still trying to find his footing. It wouldn’t be fair to her. 

And, besides, Steve just can’t bring himself to see her that way. She’s a friend. A good friend. But it’s too comfortable. There’s none of the fire that he felt with Peggy. And Amelia seems to feel the same. They’re pals. And that’s more than enough.

By the time he leaves, he’s exchanged phone numbers (and even a few emails) with some of the other soldiers. Amy gives him a hug goodbye at his apartment before beginning her journey back to Eddisburg. 

And Steve, instead of staying up all night rehashing everything he had lost, falls asleep feeling a little more grounded and connected, and a whole lot less alone, than he has since waking up from the ice.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
